"What! You've come all the way from Chicago on that?" I inquired incredulously.
"Sure enough."
"How long has it taken you?" (I was already becoming sufficiently Americanized, the reader will observe.)
"Best part of three months."
"How many with you?"
"Wife and two children. Here they are."
"Well, I wish you luck, brother; but it doesn't strike me that the roads are ideal from a furniture-removing point of view, so to speak."
"Roads?" (Here he waxed furious: I had touched a sore spot.) "Don't talk to me about roads. The gor-dem Government oughta a' bin shot that provided roads like this. Just think that across a civilized country like America there isn't a dem road fit to drive a cow on to!"
"Ah, I've thought that way myself; but there's a fallacy in the observation, old man."
"What d'ya mean?"